


I'll Be Your Stars, Your Moon, Your Night Sky

by natashawrites



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: College AU, Exhausted Student Keith, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Librarian Lance, Library AU, M/M, Mostly Just Two Boys Falling in Love, Mutual Pining, Soft Boi Hunk, Stargazing, Stuck On a Rollercoaster Together, accidental encounters, broganes, gremlin pidge, motorcycle keith, nonbinary pidge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 01:19:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15786030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natashawrites/pseuds/natashawrites
Summary: When Keith falls asleep for the second night in the local library, he doesn't know what to expect. Definitely not a new group of friends, a long string of consecutive misadventures, or the discovery of the future love of his life.But then again, do any of us really know what to expect from what fate has in store for us?





	I'll Be Your Stars, Your Moon, Your Night Sky

Keith’s stomach growled, and he jerked awake with a start. His jaw ached where it had pressed against his forearm, and said arm was dead asleep, full of painful pins and needles from where it had supported the weight of his head. The numbers and formulas on the page in front of him swam against the blank expanse of paper, so Keith knew it was late.

He ran a hand through his hair and winced at how greasy it was. He was in desperate need of a shower, but he was in desperate need of many things. A hot meal. A good night’s sleep. A passing calculus grade.

He checked his phone, (6% battery, great) and the 12:50 am blinked up innocuously at him. He stifled a groan. The library, being open 24 hours for the colleges it neighbored, would be open all night, so if he fell asleep again, nobody would be around to wake him up and kick him out.

He wanted to go back home, to his apartment, no matter how tiny it was. His bed awaited, warm and full of blankets....but it was so far away. (It wasn’t really that far away, but moving to the other end of the library felt far away to Keith right now.) His motorcycle was parked outside in a 24-hour parking spot, so he could definitely just leave it there….the idea of staying in the warm library felt more and more alluring by the second. Hardly anyone else was there, besides a single librarian working the graveyard shift at the checkout corner, and the table seemed...so nice…

Keith was asleep before his head hit the table again.

 

So far, Lance’s day had been fairly non-eventful. Which was why it was so suspicious when he spotted a mysterious stranger sitting at one of the library tables, chewing the end of a pencil and looking murderous.

Lance weighed the books in his hands, the cart in front of him, and the weirdly-attractive, mulleted boy in his peripheral vision. He could do his job, or he could go flirt. It wasn’t even a choice, really.

Before he knew it, Lance’s feet were taking him over to the table strewn with papers and notebooks, and he was plopping down in the chair across from the boy and turning on the charm.

“Hey,” he said, leaning in to prop his chin on his hand. The boy’s head snapped up, and a little thrill shot through Lance at seeing the violet eyes, just a moment ago full of anger, now slightly wary and confused. “Why do you look like you wanna kill someone right now?”

The boy just stared at him, and Lance could feel a flush starting to creep up his neck. Maybe he shouldn’t have come over. Maybe he really should have just stuck to his job.

But then the boy replied, “Why do you want to know?”

His voice was low, not quite what Lance had expected. He felt a smile spread over his own face at the other boy’s decision to engage.

“Well,” Lance drawled, leaning back in his chair, “if you really are going to kill someone, I would prefer you not do it in my library. Kiddie Story Time is later, and blood is hard to get out of the carpets.”

The black-haired boy raised an eyebrow at that, and maybe Lance was imagining it, but he thought he saw the traces of a small smile on his face. “Don’t worry. The only thing getting killed here is me.”

“Who’s the murderer?” Lance asked, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe I can help.”

The other boy just left his eyebrow cocked, as if he somehow didn’t believe Lance could help. “Unless if you wanna teach me an entire semester’s worth of Calculus 2, I don’t think you can.”

Lance made a face. “Blech. Okay, yeah, nevermind. I’m a tutor here, but not even I wanna spend more time on Calc than I have to.”

The other boy huffed, and Lance felt a little warmth spreading through his chest. Maybe he wasn’t so mysterious after all. If anything, this was just improving Lance’s confidence in his flirting abilities. “Do you work here?” The boy then asked, catching Lance off guard.

“Yup,” Lance said, popping the ‘p’. “Stacks Manager, Children Wrangler, and Assistant-Librarian extraordinaire. Ask me anything about the Dewey Decimal System. Picked this up as a part-time job for some extra college moolah, but accidentally got sucked in by the head librarian here. Allura is very convincing. What’s your name, by the way?”

The boy seemed a little taken aback at the question after the long string of explanations. “Uh. Keith.”

“Keith,” Lance said, rolling the name over his tongue a little. Somehow, it fit the student in front of him. Or at least, Lance assumed he was a student. The bags under his eyes and the many papers on his desk seemed to indicate so.

“And what’s yours?” Keith asked, and Lance realized he had been silent for just a little too long.

“Lance,” he rushed to say. They both were quiet for a moment, and Lance felt his mind scrambling for another path to keep the conversation going. “So, um, do you go to school around here?”

Keith considered Lance for a moment, and he felt himself heat again under that intense gaze. “Yeah. Galra Polytechnic.”

“Ah,” Lance found himself saying. “I shouldn’t be associating with you, then. We’re rivals.”

“You go to the Garrison?” Keith questioned, his eyebrows raising again.

Lance felt an odd surge of pride as he replied, “Uh-huh. Flight program, full scholarship.”

“Impressive.” And maybe it was the fact that Keith, despite his dry tone, actually did sound impressed, that made Lance want to continue speaking to him. He knew the cart full of books wasn’t going to empty itself, and that Allura would notice soon if he wasn’t doing anything, but he didn’t want to stop this conversation just yet.

“If I may ask,” Lance said, feeling a little bold, “why are you at the Arus Public Library when you could be using Galra Polytechnic’s state-of-the-art facilities? Surely it’s not just the attractive librarians here.” He gave Keith his best roguish smile and a little wink for good measure.

To his infinite delighted surprise, Keith reddened. He had actually drawn a blush out of the guy. Why didn’t his flirting work this well all the time?

Keith cleared his throat. “Um. No. Um, there are a lot of people I want to avoid at my school. I don’t really know anyone at this library, so it’s easier to concentrate. And it’s closer to my apartment.”

It was the most words Lance had gotten out of Keith so far, and he felt strangely accomplished because of it. “Good choice, in that case. Maybe I’ll see you around more often.” He flashed a quick grin behind his shoulder as he sauntered back to the stacks, and was pleased to see a slightly bemused echo of his own smile on Keith’s face.

The rest of his shift, he couldn’t stop sneaking glances at Keith from wherever he was puttering around with the cart. Sometimes, when he was studying the books, he thought he felt the weight of a gaze on his own neck, but every time he turned around again, Keith was intently studying his calculus homework.

And even after leaving the library that day in a burst of the midday sun, he couldn’t keep his mind off those violet eyes.

 

Keith awoke with a snort and immediately stifled the groan that threatened to rise out of him. He had fallen asleep. Again.

His phone was officially dead, and he knew it was late because the giant windows that usually provided the library with natural light were dark, showcasing the few stars outside that weren’t obscured by light pollution.

Then he looked up in front of him and screamed.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t a scream (Keith doesn’t scream when he’s scared, he _doesn’t_ ) but it was definitely a shrill shriek at best. Because, standing in front of him in silent judgment, was a short figure with ominous round glasses and an impassive face. They looked like a child out of a horror movie, like they had been observing him for a while as he slept.

“Really, dude? I know it’s empty, but this is still a library. No loud noises, come on,” the figure said, their glasses glinting a little in the moonlight. They looked vaguely familiar. Where had he seen them before?

“Who - what -” Keith stammered, not even sure what he was trying to ask.

“My name is Pidge,” the figure said. “They/them pronouns, thanks, and I’m a librarian. You probably recognize me from last night, when I was working the desk and you fell asleep.”

Keith’s mind whirred. If it could have made a noise, it would have been the one that his laptop makes when it’s frozen and is trying really hard to get back to work but just can’t get up the energy. “You were watching me last night?” was the only thing he could think to ask stupidly.

The figure - Pidge - pushed their glasses up their nose. “Well, duh. It’s the graveyard shift. Not like there’s much else going on, and it’s too early in the term for students to be up this late studying, usually.” They plopped down in front of him. “So. What’s got you spending an entire day here?”

Keith was _so tired_. Why hadn’t he gone home last night? The entire last day felt like a fugue state. He couldn’t really remember much at all, let alone any studying he had gotten done. He felt like something out of the ordinary had happened...like he had met someone, maybe? But his brain was so blank it was hard to focus on anything besides Pidge. “Um. Calculus is kicking my ass. I have an exam at the end of this week. And if I don’t pass, I lose my scholarship.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He wasn’t planning on saying that. Other people didn’t need to know, he didn’t want Pidge’s pity or anything-

“I can probably help.” Pidge pulled his mess of papers across the table and studied them, adjusting their glasses.

Keith looked at them dubiously. “With Calculus 2? How old are you, even?”

Pidge looked up at him over their glasses, eyes narrowed. “17. Bet.”

Keith just threw up his hands at that, too exhausted to argue with a teenager (even though he was barely a not-teenager himself) and let Pidge look over his many notes and study materials.

Within the hour, Keith was starting to think Pidge was a genius.

Within two hours, Keith was sure Pidge was a genius.

And by the end of the second hour, he was finally starting to understand power series and Taylor polynomials. Which was a miracle in itself, honestly.

Keith felt much more awake now, despite the later hour, and stared down at the numbers and letters swimming in front of his eyes in Pidge’s spiky handwriting. “How are you a better teacher than my professor?” he asked hoarsely.

Pidge just shrugged, but this time, a little smile stole over their face. “Math tutor. I placed into Calc 3 at the Garrison a year ago, so.”

Keith gaped at Pidge, who was now looking like a smug cat. “Okay, I take it back. You, a 17-year-old, are much more qualified to be good at this than I am.”

“Thanks,” Pidge said, satisfied. “And listen, dude, you really should go home. This library may be open for 24 hours, but it’s really not the best place to be living.”

Keith didn’t disagree with them, but he was trying to remember if he had paid the water bill at his apartment. Would he be able to take a shower when he got home? Whatever, Pidge was probably right. He wasn’t inclined to doubt them ever again, really.

He sighed, pushing a hand through his hair and trying really hard to not think about how much greasier it had gotten since the last time he had checked. “Okay, yeah, I’ll get going.” He stood up and started shoving papers into his bag, feeling weariness tugging at his bones. His eyes wanted to drift closed, but he knew he had to stay awake if he didn’t want to crash Red on the way home.

He turned around before walking away to face Pidge, who was still sprawled in one of the chairs, studying him. “And thanks, by the way. Really. I owe you.”

Pidge quirked an eyebrow. “I’ll be sure to take you up on that.”

And Keith couldn’t even bring himself to be a little concerned at handing out a favor to someone who surely kept a mental tally list in their head for such things before turning around and walking toward the library doors.

He leaned on the door with his shoulder to push it open, too tired to reach out an arm. He could really use coffee, but that probably wasn’t a good idea if he wanted to get any sleep tonight. He was still imagining the scent of strong espresso, his eyes drifting closed as his feet carried him across the sidewalk, when he slammed into somebody.

“What the fuck?” he was saying before he could stop himself. Then he looked up and was met with a pair of stunning blue eyes, somehow vaguely familiar -

“Keith?” The other boy asked.

Keith blinked. “How do you know my name?” Everything felt sluggish, like there was a lag between what he was experiencing and when his brain was processing it.

The other boy frowned. “We met earlier today, remember? Me, the charming librarian, you, the murderous student?”

Keith just blinked again, suddenly feeling very stupid. So that’s what he had forgotten earlier. Because he did remember Lance - very hazily, through the fog of sleep-deprivation, but he did remember him. The guy was kind of hard to forget. “Um. Yeah, I guess.”

Lance looked put-out for a moment, before seeming to really take Keith’s current state in. “Whoa. Have you been at the library all day?”

“Since yesterday evening, actually,” Keith said slowly. His mouth felt thick, his tongue heavy and dry. When was the last time he’d had water? Food that wasn’t a granola bar? Was he dehydrated?

And then he was swaying on his feet, his head light, and everything went black.

 

“Keith. Buddy. My dude. Please wake up. I really don’t wanna call the hospital but I will if I have to but also anxiety so please don’t make me.”

Keith felt like he was being dragged out of water, like the fog in his head was clearing briefly. Someone was hovering over him, leather was pushing against his back, he was in a small, dark place - he sat up suddenly. And immediately regretted it as his head spun and he wanted to throw up.

“Woah, dude, slow down. Here drink this.” Something cylindrical was thrust into his hands. Water? He unscrewed the cap with shaky hands and took a swig. Fuck, maybe he really had been dehydrated, because this water tasted like the best thing he had ever consumed in his life. He finished the bottle quickly, and another one was replacing it in his hands. But who -

“I think you were dehydrated,” the voice said, still hovering above him. Lance? The flirty librarian? Why was he here? “And maybe also had low blood sugar.”

Keith finally felt like his head was clear enough to ask a question. “What happened?” His voice was raspy, almost a growl. He winced and took another sip of water.

It was definitely Lance in front of him, he could see that now. They were in the back seat of some car, maybe even Lance’s, and Lance was looking at him with worried eyes and furrowed brows. “You passed out. Your face would’ve met the concrete if I wasn’t right there to catch you from where we bumped into each other.”

Keith had the strangest urge to giggle, and one slipped past his lips, a hysteria-edged laugh that felt slightly non-human. “My hero.”

Okay, Lance looked really concerned now. “Do you have an apartment? Or are you in the dorms? Wait, how old are you?”

“Red,” Keith blurted out.

“That answered literally none of my questions. Are you _sure_ I shouldn’t be taking you to the hospital?”

“No,” Keith protested. “Red. Motorcycle. Parked. I gotta...gotta take her home.”

Lance was immediately shaking his head. “There is _no way_ on this earth that I am letting you ride a motorcycle when you’re like this. That would be like letting a wasted 12-year-old drive.”

“Not drunk,” Keith said petulantly, feeling like a child trying to wheedle something out of an adult.

Lance just gave a little surprised laugh. “No, but you may as well be. Come on, I’ll drive you home. You just stay there, lying down.”

Keith tried to manage another weak protest, but then Lance was sliding out of the back seat and into the driver’s side. The engine murmured to life beneath him, and suddenly it felt like way too much effort to get up. So he stayed where he was.

“Where do you live?” Lance asked, twisting around in his seat. He was pretty, Keith thought distractedly. And he was still staring at Keith, waiting for an answer.

Keith mumbled out his address, and luckily Lance seemed to know where it was because he turned around and started driving.

Keith watched the streets whiz by through half-lidded eyes. He glimpsed the moon in snatches, a round gibbous shape swelling in the sky. He wished there were more stars.

Before he knew it, they were at his apartment, and the car door was opening and gentle hands were on his shoulders, helping him out. Lance kept an arm around him to steady him as they walked up the apartment stairs, Keith still feeling like he might sway if left to stand on his own. Lance was a solid presence at his side, and in his befuddled state, Keith felt himself leaning into Lance’s warmth. Lance seemed to stiffen at first, but he relaxed when it was clear Keith wasn’t going to be moving away any time soon as they continued up several floors.

When they reached his apartment, Keith moved to say goodbye to Lance, but Lance said, “Nope. I’m making sure you’re eating something. _Then_ I can leave and rest easy.”

Keith was too tired to argue with him. So Lance followed him into his tiny apartment, and he couldn’t even be bothered to feel embarrassed at the mess or the tiny size as he plopped down on the floor. He breathed in deeply. _Home_. His apartment smelled familiar, cozy.

He felt his eyes starting to drift closed again as Lance rummaged through his disappointing fridge, before finally finding something that seemed to satisfy him. “Aha!” he said. “Found something high in sugar. You really need to go grocery shopping, by the way.”

Lance thrust a cup of applesauce at him, then two more. Keith just looked at them. Objectively his brain knew what to do with them, but he couldn’t quite remember how someone was supposed to eat applesauce. He hadn’t even known he’d had these in the fridge.

“Spoon,” Lance said, and he handed Keith a spoon. Suddenly, Keith remembered how to eat applesauce, and he was digging in. Before he knew it, all three cups were gone.

With Lance’s help, Keith stood up from the floor, swayed a little again, and started toward his bedroom. But abruptly, he spun around, almost losing his balance before stabilizing himself on the countertop. “Wait,” he said. “Is way too late. Couch. For you.” He knew his words were slurring a little, knew Lance probably hadn’t intended on staying in his apartment. But the clock was blinking 3:45 at him, and after everything Lance had done, the least he deserved was a place to spend the rest of the night.

Lance looked caught off guard. “Um. Are you sure? I don’t wanna impose -”

“No,” Keith said stubbornly. He waved a vague hand at the couch and the blankets stacked on its arm. “Sleep. Night.”

“Good night,” Lance said bemusedly, and Keith thought the boy might have been staring at Keith’s bedroom door long after Keith fell into his bed and a deep, dreamless sleep.


End file.
